


Si vis pacem, para bellum

by faetlrae



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut, Uncle/Niece Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:30:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faetlrae/pseuds/faetlrae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knows she shouldn’t. She just doesn’t care.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Si vis pacem, para bellum

_Disclaimer: I do not own Revolution or its characters, and no infringement is intended; however, this little bit of prose is mine._

 

 ** _Si vis pacem, para bellum_**  
“If you wish for peace, prepare for war”  
A Miles/Charlie Revolution fan fiction

 

Charlie rakes her fingernails over his wet shirt and down his sweaty back as she kisses his lips earnestly; the faintest of moans escapes her as his fingertips gently graze the underside of her chin.

“Charlie,” he warns.

“I know.” She doesn’t care.

She does not know exactly what got her gut, and quite frankly her groin, going for him—maybe it is the way he asserts himself as a leader and fighter, or her own fetish of the exotic—but _damn it_ she _aches_ for him. And she is sick of all the biological conjecture in this yet unredeemed society in which he has only truly existed for a few months to her, and, equally, she is tired of the awkwardly spaced distance he has been placing between the two of them.

Because, truthfully, Miles Matheson turns her the-fuck _on_.

She will not apologize for it.

For most of her entire life, Charlie has dreamed of escaping her small village, has fantasized about emprise and misadventure, and has envisaged falling in love with a warrior-prince who wants to help her bring justice to society and lift civilization to its next level of technological evolution.

(Also known as get the fucking power back on.)

And sure, for all intents and purposes, Miles desires neither justice nor power.

But she desires all of him in this moment—and in many preconceived fantasies that have played out virtually as reality is unfolding here and now.

So she lowers her head and raises her big eyes to him, pleading, “Miles, don’t make me beg for you.”

She sees his eyes darken against his own will and knows she has him hooked. Now, she has to reel him in steadily. “Miles,” she breathes, her tone slightly strained.

He _hmph_ s, and then he uses his fingertips to bring her chin toward his, placing his lips firmly against hers. “This is so fucked up,” he grinds out between his teeth after the kiss, his breath having a sharp effect against her right cheek.

“I’m fucked up, aren’t I?” Charlie tosses out.

“You are?”

“You said so yourself.”

“I did?”

“You said, ‘You’re weird.’”

“Yeah, but I also said that your being weird is a good thing.”

Charlie smiles fiendishly. “Who says being fucked up isn’t a good thing?”

 _Hook line and sinker_ , Charlie thinks as Miles pulls her flush against him, kissing her harder.

It is against her nature to be so calculative, but she has recently surmised that the only way to beat Miles is by his own game, and Miles is a military strategist. No doubt he has rationalized a thousand different ways as to how he could be tempted by and would deny his niece. So, Charlie has known she will need to find Way #1,001.

She invites him deeper into her mouth. His tongue glides across her lips, slides along her tongue, and rakes against the backside of her teeth. Charlie moans again. “Miles, please don’t make me beg.”

 _Fuck_ , she can see in his eyes, _Begging not to beg_. His resistance is non-existent. Miles knows Charlie to be strong, so he loves that he is her weakness. That she will bend if he needs her to instills a feeling deep in his gut, a resolve, unlike any he has felt before.

“Charlie,” he pleads.

“Don’t feel guilty, Miles. I want it, too—just as badly as you do.” Charlie takes a deep breath and smiles genuinely.

Miles’ features soften, easing from guilt into understanding. “You understand me better than Ben ever did,” he says honestly. Upon reflection, Miles will conclude that it is the most candid thing he ever had said to anyone up to that point.

Her right hip rubs gently against his crotch, and he inhales sharply. “Fuck, Charlie,” he says before his hands grasp onto her hips and press them firmly against his groin.

His hands begin to roam: His right hand slides teasingly along her left ribcage toward her breast, and Charlie can feel her nerves tingle as his fingertips deliberately trail faint lines along her side and up to her breast, where they begin to draw circles around her areola. Her breathing quickens, but he doesn’t dare touch her nipple yet. Instead, his left hand travels from her right hip to her belly button and begins to tease it through her shirt. Even as his fingertips continue into new circles, she can feel a faint afterimage along her tummy of where their heat has just been.

Desperately, Charlie begins to tighten her abdomen, forcing her hips into Mile’s hardening cock.

They both gasp.

For a beat, Charlie and Miles lock eyes. Then, Charlie thrusts again, and Miles closes his eyes tightly in response. “Charlie, _fuck_.”

The grinding becomes more desperate as Miles’ right index finger and thumb finally pinch her left nipple, and all Charlie’s lips can do is make out an _Oh, fuck!_ _Miles!_ , before Miles’ left hand reaches behind her back to grip her ass. She can feel his left middle finger as it reaches beyond her asshole to the opening of her pussy through her jeans and begins to rub simultaneously as his hard cock grinds against her clit.

Charlie feels an intense heat building deep inside her. The way that Miles’ left finger tease her folds through the fabric begin to elicit sounds from her lips that Charlie is not quite sure she herself is even making. As the pressure builds, her sounds border on the brink of intelligibility.

As her oo’s and ah’s and _oooh, yes there_ ’s become more and more frantic, along with her thrusts, Miles’ own control fades fast. The way her whole body responds enthusiastically to his touches; the manner in which Charlie’s locks of hair keep tugging along the stubble on his face; the tickle in his nose at the smellof her arousal; the way every one of his nerve fibers she triggered are set to combust until all he can feel is heat and passion and _her sex rubbing against his_.

Miles knows they are both close, so he runs his right hand upward, along her collarbone to her neck, before trailing his fingers back toward her nipples where he begins to pinch and to draw circles. His left fingers rub much more firmly against her opening, and the friction they create with her jeans, added to the stimulation of his dick against her clit, becomes too much for Charlie. The heat she once felt budding in her abdomen now may as well be a bomb set to implode her from her very core. “Please,” she says, although she is not exactly sure what to expect in return.

“Miles,” she hitches; then, as Miles twists and thrusts against her—hard—Charlie feels as the heat reaches its breaking point. She closes her eyes as if to shield them from the whiteness only to discover that it was coming from within her. Charlie hollers Miles’ name again as the warmth and tension rolls out of her in waves.

“Char—” he gasps. Miles huffs before stilling his movements, sated.

Once she can string her thoughts together, Charlie says, “Well, I have never trained like _that_ before.”

“Get used to it,” he responds without thinking of the implications. After a beat, Miles chuckles, half apology. “You make me feel so good,” he says, almost disbelievingly. As much as he has wanted this, it is so alien to him. He doesn’t fully understand it. He can’t. He is in no place to understand. Not yet.

And sure, for all intents and purposes, Miles desires neither justice nor power—merely solace, and Charlie can give him as much. And maybe— _just maybe_ —there will be a little justice or power, too.


End file.
